


A Gentle Touch Shall Suffice

by smollander



Category: FFXIV, Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Character Study, Families of Choice, Gen, Team as Family, everyone has that pet they love that's a bastard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:15:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smollander/pseuds/smollander
Summary: Seto was Ardbert's partner in crime, but every relationship has a start.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	A Gentle Touch Shall Suffice

The blasted bird hated him. Ardbert scowled at the creature from his seat in the dirt and could have sworn the amaro looked… amused? Pleased? Smug. The word smug tasted right. The tilt of the head, how he'd casually preened himself after tossing him in half a second. Smug little bird bastard. 

"Gwee!" Seto chirped, dark eyes bright. A saddle was strapped to his midsection, tucked just behind the wings. It hung lopsided. The bridle’s reins still lay on the amaro’s neck as they ought. Putting those on had been too easy -- Ardbert hadn’t suspected the amaro of holding his breath when he was saddling it. Nor had he suspected Seto would exhale at the exact moment Ardbert tried to swing himself up into the seat. Ardbert had always wanted an amaro as a kid. He should have been more specific and wished for one who wouldn’t invent a new way to toss him every day. 

The rookery owner had warned him. Gently at first, but before he left, the old elf advised the amaro he’d chosen had been the most troublesome hatchling raised in years. What was it Ardbert’d said? Oh, yes, that he could handle it. He was stubborn too. He’d read about this. How hard could it be. Likely a few other boastful statements he regretted now.

“Suit yourself,” she said, waving the young hume off as he’d eagerly lead the fledgling away by a halter. That was two moons ago; the breeder likely wouldn’t welcome a saboteur back into her stables. In fact, Ardbert felt certain were she here, she'd laugh.

"Oh sure, _you_ think it's funny," he said, rising to his feet to dust off his trousers. There was a loud snort and toss of a feathery head, ears fluttering. 

"Well, if it's my rotten luck to be stuck with you, it's yours to be stuck with _me._ " 

Wagging a finger, his cheeks red with embarrassment, he swore,"You're not getting the best of me." Seto fluffed his shiny green feathers and gave another gwee in response. Challenge issued and answered.

* * *

Another moon went by. Seto might have been the name Ardbert chose, but he’d quickly bestowed a number of other epithets to the creature. Bastard, Sneaky, Scaly Bastard, Scaly _Wanker_ (there was a difference), Thief (usually when Seto stole some of his dinner). Sometimes he just cursed. Always, Seto trilled, or chirped, sometimes he nipped at Ardbert’s gloves. For every trace of exasperation Ardbert oozed, Seto gained an equal amount of joy. 

His friends offered everything from advice to ridicule. Clearly friendship was overrated. 

“Amaro were always too clever for me,” Branden admitted, giving a sharp whistle. The lone chocobo in the group’s herd raised her head, trilling a ‘kweh!’ in reply before ambling over. Seto’s head also popped up, and stared at the two of them. _Probably plotting._

“Chocobos, however. Now there’s a loyal creature,” he boasted, a little at least. The hume let it slide for lack of a leg to stand on. Corwen behaved beautifully, even if she occasionally startled herself. He felt jealous, truthfully. Branden never fell ass over teakettle grooming Corwen. She didn't make Branden dodge a kick for her own amusement. Giving the cheery yellow bird a resigned pat, he turned his gaze over to the amaro looking his way. 

“All right, **you**.” 

Renda-Rae and Nyelbert found endless entertainment from the whole struggle. By now Seto tolerated bearing a saddle and his weight - until the moment he didn’t. Typically the moment Ardbert dropped his guard. He was worse with grooming; cockleburs had a habit of entangling themselves. Picking them out was important. So important that Seto often volunteered to roll in any patch of grass with the greatest number of them, fluttering his wings in a display Ardbert could only view as daring him to try to pick them all out.

“Careful Ardy, he proves much smarter than you maybe we ought to let him lead,” Renda perched on the fence of a makeshift paddock. Since the struggles began, she had deemed herself his chief heckler. And heckle him she did; from the purse of her lips to the twitch of her tail. Seto trilled, in a tone that indicated amusement, approval, or likely both.

“Don’t say a word,” he said pointedly to Nyelbert. To his credit, the mage said nothing aloud. The amused grin spoke his thoughts just as perfectly. As did his laughter mingling with Renda-Rae’s as he stomped back to camp.

“Again?” asked Lamitt, with a strong note of incredulity. He rolled his eyes, _yes of course again_ , and sat down in a huff. He sighed heavily when her giggles echoed inside her helmet. Cylva demurely covered her mouth, but her shoulders shook and gave away the game.

“ _Please_ ,” he pleaded,“Those two back there already won’t let me live it down.”

“She warned you,” Lamitt reminded. Lamitt who’d long refused to heal any of the scrapes and bruises Seto gave him because, in her words, ‘I won’t fix your foolishness’. Lamitt, who had a tome they’d found on advanced healing techniques sitting in her lap while he had bruises on his bruises. Lamitt, who was the greatest betrayer of all of them.

“She tried to dissuade you,” Cylva added, running a whetstone down her sword,“Do you know what I think?” Ardbert almost loathed to ask, but he gambled on the odds she _might_ refrain from teasing.

“What?”

“I think he thinks this is a game. I think he’s bored. He’s testing you.” The whetstone scraped against the blade while Ardbert worked that over in silence.

“What makes you think so?”

“He’s the youngest of the herd. None of the rest of the amaro play with him. Corwen’s kicked him once or twice,” Cylva paused, flipped the blade, and started sharpening the other edge,“ You come around every day just to see him. He’s clearly a clever bird. But he can’t tell you what he’s thinking with words, Ardbert.” 

Ardbert felt doubtful. Playing with him? This was a _game_? He bit his lower lip, mulling it over.

“Not everyone learns a lesson the same way,” Lamitt suggested,”What’s the harm in the idea? You’ve already broken your tailbone once.” She'd know; she _had_ fixed that. 

“If it works, Renda won’t have anything to crow about after today.” Cylva’s quip sold him. _Why not_ , he thought, laying back in the grass to stare up at the open sky. He’d start tomorrow.

* * *

The trickiest habit to break himself of with Seto was refusing to get angry when Seto outsmarted him. That alone took a moon. Cylva had advised to play with the amaro, to reward his cleverness without reinforcing his mischief. You get more flies with honey, or something to that effect. An overly simplistic adage (after all, flies go for _anything_ ). Also a tactic that required patience -- something he never had in abundance for all he tried. 

Still, for any time Seto dumped him out of the saddle or slipped his halter, Ardbert ignored it. He ignored Seto’s headbutting him in the back. He discovered he could sidestep Seto hooking him with his horns. He even found a couple of things Seto _didn't_ like himself -- tugging on his ear. Tickling him under his wings also proved a good deterrent on bad behavior.

Gradually, oh so gradually, he saw progress. Coating Seto’s gums with honey when he stood quietly to be groomed. A trip that passed without incident was cause for extra fruit. Seto’s pocket ripping turned into gently nudging his nose into the boy’s back, politely asking for an extra goodie. 

“Remarkable,” Nyelbert commented softly, in the middle of tending his own bird at the end of a sun, “If I wasn’t aware, I’d have thought you replaced him with another entirely.” Ardbert was sitting on a rock oiling saddle leather, with Seto curled up behind him. Chirping a protest, Seto rested his head on top Ardbert’s head. 

The hume shrugged,“We came to an understanding.” 

“So I see. Renda’s sorely disappointed by the development. As I'm sure you noticed.”

“I think she can survive having one less thing to laugh at me about.”

A loud, undignified snort of laughter escaped from the reedy elf at that remark.

* * *

“Hey Seto.” 

The amaro’s head perked up at the sound of his voice, leaning into the touch of his hand before Ardbert halted his approach. A gentle touch to suffice as a greeting. 

“Hey boy, who’s a good lad? The best lad, right?” he said, reaching to scratch in between the wyrmbird’s horns. The cooing noise of contentment coaxed a smile out of him, briefly. Long moments passed with nothing said, as Ardbert softly tended to him.

“Can you do something for me, Seto?” Ardbert asked, continuing his ministrations,”Me and the others...we have somewhere to go. Too far for you. Even too far for Corwen. Can I leave you in charge of ‘em?” There was a lump in his throat he stubbornly swallowed. Seto noticed, dark eyes softening. The amaro nudged him, warbling softly. Not all that long ago, but also so long ago, he'd never have thought he could love so much. How things change. 

“No, no, I’m sorry. You can’t go, Seto,” he insisted. His sight was a little bleary. He’d blame that on the light. Too bloody bright, really. He looked back over his shoulder at the group ready to lead Seto and the rest away. A ragged looking bunch from Lakeland -- refugees from the war. Times might be hard at first, but Ardbert hoped…  
  
Seto bit his hand, gently, but enough to call his attention back. 

“I wish I could explain it to you better, mate. We,” he took a deep breath,“We’re going to fix a mistake. It might take a long time. ‘Til then just… make sure Corwen doesn’t get lost, right? Look after things for me? Those old birds are too set in their ways.” 

Finally, relenting, Seto bowed his head in acquiescence.  
  
“Knew I could count on you. Best mate, partner in crime.” Seto ignored the praise, head low. 

As the new band lead Seto and the others away, Ardbert stood and watched, face wet. _For the best. We have to do it. For everyone. Them too,_ he thought, wiping his face with the palm of his hand. 

Because what wouldn’t anyone do for their partner in crime.

* * *

  
Time passed, more than Seto liked to acknowledge. Ardbert never came back to reclaim him; Seto mourned quietly, which won him a lot of extra attention but not what he wanted. Eventually, Seto reclaimed himself. He'd been in service long enough to hear the voices of support turn to scorn, to see people he remembered turned into caricatures. The last straw came when a groomer tried to take his medal off. With a fierce headbutt, Seto knocked the youth on his backside and took off, first heading nowhere before nowhere turned to Il Mheg.

There he stayed, among his fellow mourners, where they could all speak their grief freely. So it was, until one day he woke up... from a gentle touch.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired mostly by some of my family's own lovable bastard pets. Namely, several Jack Russell terriers, an Australian Shepherd who was a part-time magician, and a horse who once keyed my dad's car with her teeth. We loved them, but they were all at times, complete assholes. 
> 
> Naturally, when I played MSQ Seto broke my heart, because perhaps the greatest tragedy I've ever witnessed in life is a pet that outlives the person they love most.


End file.
